


It's So Clear Now

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Turning your head, you realize how close Dean is to you - he’s pressed up against the entire length of your body, his breath soft and warm against the back of your neck and his hand a reassuring presence on your stomach.As you move slightly, his arm tightens around your waist, and he makes a soft noise that has you picturing things you absolutely should not picture. It’s hard though - no pun intended - to act like everything has been normal between the two of you for the last few months.





	It's So Clear Now

**Author's Note:**

> Set in s12, no real mentions of any canon stuff, with the exception of Mary Winchester being alive. I swear I didn’t mean for this to be this long. Canonical descriptions of violence, walk-through of basic concussion protocol, but nothing too medical. Smut is pretty tame, but Dean totally has a dirty mouth. Avoid this if that’s not your jam.

You quite literally run into the Winchesters for the first time in months when you come around the corner in an abandoned house where a few ghosts are hanging out, and you almost clock Dean in the face with an iron poker before you realize it’s him.

“ _Christ_ , kid.” He says, his voice gruff.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” You ask after you catch your breath.

“Same thing as you, I’d wager.” Dean says wryly, and you roll your eyes.

“No shit, smartass.” You say, grinning at him before he smiles back at you, before pulling you into an embrace, his arms banding tight around your waist.

When he lets go, you do the same with Sam, and he lifts you off your feet a little bit before kissing your cheek, smiling gently at you. “You okay?” He asks, gesturing towards your face where you already know you’re bleeding a little bit.

“This? Oh, yeah. That was pure clumsiness, not work-related.” Your tone is sheepish. “Wasn’t looking where I was going, hit myself in the head with the damn chandelier. ”

“You gank the ghost yet?” Dean asks, all business as he looks around to gauge the situation.

“Can’t find her bones.” You grouse, feeling a little bit embarrassed. It’s never taken you this long before. “The research I did wasn’t accurate. The archives in town are new enough that they don’t account for the cemetery being dug up and moved.”

Sam shrugs at you. “No worries, we’ll figure it out. Three heads are better than one.”

“Incoming.” Dean interrupts, gruff, as you look up and notice the lights flickering, realizing you can see your breath.

The three of you step almost simultaneously into the salt circle you’ve got laid out, the sound of Dean loading his shotgun next to you comforting. You’ve been alone for a few months, the longest you’ve gone without basic human interaction for a while and you’re realizing how starved you’ve been for it. Dean’s barely brushed up against you and you’re already covered in goosebumps.

“Where the hell is she?” He barks next to you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“She doesn’t always show up. It’s like she’s trying to get our attention.” You tell him, shrugging. “Been like this for a few days.”

“Well something’s keeping her here, then.” Sam says, and you nod.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. All the research I’ve done– it seems incomplete, somehow. No mention of the cemetery moving, or what happened to graves that don’t seem to have moved with it. Something’s weird about it.”

“We’ll figure it out. Has she hurt anyone?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Dean frowns. “You got a room in town?”

You snort. “A shitty one.”

“Come stay with us.” Dean grins at you then, a sight that never fails to make your heart race, no matter how many times you tell yourself you’re _not going to do this_ with him. “We can catch up.”

.

.

Their motel is significantly less bug-infested than yours is, and you flop down on one of the beds almost immediately when you get inside, sighing.

“You look exhausted, kid.” Dean comments as he drops his bag by the bed you’re lying on, taking a seat on the edge.

“Haven’t been sleeping.” You murmur, already feeling your eyes droop closed.

“Nightmares?” Dean asks quietly, looking at you with concern.

You shake your head. “No. Can’t sleep long enough to even dream. Insomnia. Just can’t sleep.” You yawn. “I get tired enough, but just lay there all night.”

Dean scratches the back of his neck. “Been there. You need anything? I could call Sam while he’s at the store before he leaves. I’m going to shower.”

“I’m good. I’m just going to watch TV or something.”

Dean smiles at you before he heads into the bathroom and shuts the door quietly, nothing but the hum of the air conditioning unit to keep you company as you hear the squeak of the pipes as Dean turns the shower on. He starts to absently hum under his breath and you smile to yourself as you feel your eyes drooping again.

Forgetting about turning on the TV at all, you let your eyes drift closed and finally let sleep overtake you, wondering if you’ll manage to at least get a few hours of sleep before morning.

.

.

When you wake up, Sam and Dean are talking quietly, and you can tell they’re arguing about something. You don’t want to be awake just yet, so you keep your eyes shut, hoping you’ll fall back asleep even though you can already tell it’s pointless.

“What am I supposed to do - wake her up?” Dean hisses at his brother. “She told me she’s barely sleeping.”

“Where are you going to sleep, then?” Sam says, and you can just picture him with his hands on his hips. You smother a laugh.

“I don’t know. The floor or something. Who cares? Look, if you want to face her wrath, go ahead. Be my guest.” You crack an eye open to see Dean gesturing towards you and Sam looking at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Dude. Too late.”

You sit up slowly, blinking. “Are you guys going to shut up anytime soon, or…?”

Dean’s face falls. “Shit. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “Nothing new. Are you guys seriously arguing about sleeping arrangements? How many times have we done this?”

For about a year now you’ve run into Sam and Dean occasionally and they always seem to want to take you under their wing. You don’t complain, because honestly, it’s better hunting with backup. You enjoy their company and they seem to like you too, if they keep inviting you to stay with them. Sam is always telling you that you should just come back to the Bunker with them, but you’ve protested every time.

It’s not like you don’t want to spend more time with them. That’s never been an issue. It’s just– okay, you’re not above admitting that you think Dean is basically the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever met. It’s a little distracting, is all. You don’t want to be _that person_. You don’t want to stick around too long and wear out your welcome just because you have a crush on the guy.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you lift up the blankets on top of you, clearly making room for one of them. “Come on, don’t make this a big deal.”

“Dibs.” Dean says, and then immediately turns red when Sam and you both give him an amused look. “What? You’re like a furnace. It’s cold in here.”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Dean mutters, but then slides into bed next to you, carefully leaving a foot in between the two of you. You arch your brow, and watch gleefully as he squirms a little. “Stop that.”

“You’re a _teenager_.”

“Go to sleep, kid.” He tells you, and you laugh once more, but take pity on him, rolling over onto your side so your back is to him, shutting your eyes.

You eventually fall asleep, which surprises you given the extent of the insomnia you’ve been dealing with lately. You still toss and turn a lot, and wake up a few times in the middle of the night. The third time you wake up, you’re unusually warm, and there’s an unfamiliar weight settled across your waist.

Turning your head, you realize how close Dean is to you - he’s pressed up against the entire length of your body, his breath soft and warm against the back of your neck and his hand a reassuring presence on your stomach.

As you move slightly, his arm tightens around your waist, and he makes a soft noise that has you picturing things you absolutely should _not_ picture. It’s hard though - no pun intended - to act like everything has been normal between the two of you for the last few months.

Dean has always been a flirt, and you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. You’re pretty sure Dean has never had any feminist friends, and you take great amusement in the way he trips over his own tongue to try to talk his way out of getting caught looking you over, or calling you ‘babe’ when he’s trying to get on your good side.

He’s not all womanizer, though. You see it - the goodness in him that he doesn’t always see in himself. He’s loyal to a fault, and always wants to take care of and protect everyone. It’s incredibly endearing, and that, coupled with the attraction you feel for him already… it’s _a lot_.

Dean shifts behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts, and you try not to get too comfortable. Soon, he’ll wake up, and bolt away from you like a bat out of hell, and you’ll go on pretending it never happened, like usual.

“You asleep?” His gruff voice surprises you.

“No.” You say, after a beat.

“You’re warm.” He mutters, and actually _nuzzles_ your neck, the asshole, and you start to think maybe he’s not fully awake. There’s no way Fully Awake Dean Winchester would do this. Unless he’s finally as sick of all the tension as you are, but even then– no. It’s too much to even think about.

“Dean.” You say his name quietly, but firm, and it seems to jolt him back to himself.

“I– sorry. I’m not–” he lets go, rolling away from you. You immediately miss his warmth. “Sorry.”

You shrug, moving to lay on your back. “No big deal. Small bed.”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the night goes much like that. You don’t really get back to sleep, and get the feeling he doesn’t either, though you both do your best to pretend that nothing is different.

In the morning, you hear Sam get up and change, and go out the door, jogging away. You figure you’ve got 20 or so minutes before he gets back and hogs the shower, so you slide out of the bed and go into the bathroom, cringing at the rusty faucet. “This is probably fine.” You mutter, and turn the water on as hot as it will go.

Stepping in, you let the surprisingly good water pressure beat down on your sore muscles, and try to relieve the headache you’ve got by rubbing your temples with your index fingers.

“Kid?” Dean’s voice echoes through the room as he calls out for you, and you startle, dropping your shampoo. “You okay?” He asks, sounding panicked, and you’re quick to head him off at the pass.

“Fine. What’s up?”

“Just making sure you were still here.” He replies.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You say, and rush through the rest of your routine. When you get back into the room, Dean is dressed and brewing some coffee.

“Thought you might have ditched.” He says without looking at you.

You make a face. “When the hell have I ever ditched on a hunt?”

He shrugs. “Thought– thought maybe last night…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.

“It’s not a big deal, Dean.” You say, and he looks at you finally, his eyes filled with something you can’t identify. It makes you want to shiver, though.

You’re interrupted by his phone ringing, and both of you jump. Dean answers it with a gruff, “Yeah?”, and then his voice softens like you’ve never heard before. “Hey, Mom.”

They told you about their Mom. It was wild, but you figure it’s par for the course in the life of the Winchesters. It’s something else to witness up close, though. Vaguely, you wonder if you’ll ever get to meet her.

Dean talks to her for a few minutes and then ends the call as Sam comes back into the room, smiling at you as he brushes past you to get to the bathroom.

“We need to do some more research and get rid of this ghost.” You say, trying to change the subject to something, _anything_.

Dean nods. “Sam thinks he might have a lead. Remember you said you think she’s just trying to get someone’s attention? Before we got there Sam looked up some of the history of the house–”

“So did I.” You point out, taking a sip of the coffee. “I told you, the archives–”

“Are too new. Right.” Dean gives you a look that says _can I finish_ and you roll your eyes. “There was a journal in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“I read it.”

“There’s pages missing.” Dean says, and you narrow your eyes. This was a thing the two of you always used to do when you would hunt together often - try to figure out the case before the other person did. He’s trying to one-up you, and you get the feeling he’s already solved it.

“I know there are. I looked everywhere - even under the floorboards and in the attic.”

“That’s how you cracked your head on the chandelier?” He asks, eyes flitting towards the scrape on your forehead that still stings. “Anyway - Sam thinks they were buried with whoever’s bones we’re _actually_ looking for.”

He looks so _smug_ and you’re trying not to let him see that you’re going to laugh. He looks like a kid in a candy store.

“Okay, so where are they? Who are we looking for?”

“That we don’t know. Not yet, anyway.”

Sam comes out of the bathroom then, and the three of you busy yourselves by getting ready to go. You’re not sure if you need your fed outfit for today but you pack it in your backpack and head outside. You already know the boys are going to demand you ride with them instead of taking your own car, so you get into the backseat of the Impala, immediately stretching your legs across the seat.

Dean sends you a wink when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, and peels out of the parking lot, hopefully to get this hunt over with.

.

.

“A little further,” Dean is saying, his voice sounding muffled, like you’re underwater. “Hold on, kiddo.”

He’s holding you up, Sam on his other side, a frown on his face as he watches you hobble into the motel room. You’re pretty sure getting thrown into a wall, a chest of drawers and then through a window by a vengeful spirit is a new record for you, but you can’t really think. You’re sure you’ve got a concussion and probably a few cracked ribs. Your ankle doesn’t want to cooperate either.

Sam and Dean are pretty scraped up, but you took the brunt of it. Sexist ghosts? You can cross that one off your list.

“Sit down, let me get some supplies.” Sam says, and rummages through his bag until you see the makeshift med kit that’s quickly becoming familiar. Sam gets to work on cleaning out the scrapes on your face and arms, wincing sympathetically as you let out an involuntary noise at the sting.

“Hey, look at me.” Dean says quietly, crouching in front of you. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You roll your eyes, but answer anyway. You guys have been over this concussion stuff a million times. “Three.”

“That’s good.” He smiles at you. “Cas isn’t answering me, so until he can get there we’re gonna keep it quiet and turn out the lights after you get cleaned up, okay?”

You murmur an agreement, standing up at Sam’s urging so he can stitch up your stomach where a sharp piece of glass from the window got you pretty good. “I’m gonna tape your ribs, too.” He says absently, almost to himself.

“Since you’re up–” Dean starts, and you groan at the same time; Sam having started to stitch up your wound while you’re distracted. “Hey, hey. Don’t think about it. Look at me.” You do, seeing his green eyes wide with concern. “I’m gonna tell you three words, and in a few minutes, I’ll ask you what they are. You know the drill.”

“Yeah.” You say through gritted teeth, letting out a small whimper as the needle in Sam’s hand stretches your skin.

“Wendigo, bunker, coffee.” Dean says, meeting your eyes. “Got it?” When you nod, he continues. “Stand on one leg for me, sweetheart.”

You let the term of endearment slide. You do as he says, and then switch legs. The room isn’t spinning, and he doesn’t have to steady you, so you figure that’s a good sign.

“The lights bothering you?” He asks. “What about the TV?” He turns it on, keeping at a normal volume.

“No and no.”

“That’s good.” Dean says, and Sam echoes his agreement.

“Almost done. Hang in there, kid.”

“I need to check you two for broken bones too,” you say, but Dean waves you off.

“Don’t think about it. Cas will show up, hopefully, and we didn’t get it nearly as bad as you.” He swallows hard. “I thought– shit, kid, you went through that window and didn’t move.”

You meet his eyes and try to convey that you’re fine. Your eyes are starting to droop, though, and you hope Cas doesn’t wait to show up. Concussions are no joke, and you’re not in the mood to deal with a headache for the foreseeable future.

“You’re all set.” Sam says, settling your shirt back at your side over top of where he wrapped your ribs with a few ace bandages. “It’s not the best job, but Cas will fix it when he gets here.”

“I feel a little dizzy.” You blurt, reaching out with one hand to steady yourself. Your hand lands on Dean’s arm as he reaches for you, his hand cupping your elbow as he keeps you upright.

“Sit down.” He instructs, and you shake your head.

“No, I’ll fall asleep and I can’t–”

“We’ll keep you up.”

You settle into the bed with Dean, your back against the headboard. He turns the volume on the TV up, watching you for any signs that the sound is starting to bother you. Sam sits at the foot of the bed, and gets some cards out of his bag.

The three of you keep yourselves occupied for awhile, and you’re embarrassed when you start to feel tears of frustration well in your eyes when Sam moves to the other bed and is asleep in minutes. You’re so tired, but you know sleeping is the last thing you should do if you’re not sure about your head.

Dean says your name quietly, and you turn to him, his eyes already on you. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’m so tired.” You say, your voice shaking.

“5 more hours til sunrise, then we’ll call Cas again.” He says, squeezing your shoulder.

“I just want to close my eyes for a few minutes–”

“No, no. Hey.” He shakes you slightly. “Come on, let’s go for a walk or something. Your ribs okay?”

You groan as he pulls you to your feet. “Fine. Ankle feels better too.”

“Let’s go.” He says, tossing you his jacket to slip on over your shoulders. He walks with you out the door, his hand on the small of your back, and you try not to lean into his touch, you really do. You get the feeling you’re failing, though, if the sharp inhale from Dean is anything to go on.

You walk kind of aimlessly for a little bit – the small town this case is in doesn’t have much of a nightlife – until you get to the park in town and Dean stops so you can sit down with him for a little bit. You’re not cold, but the cooler air is definitely keeping you awake.

“Doing alright?” He asks, and you kind of can’t believe how _caring_ he is.

“Doing okay.” You say. “Where is Cas that he can’t come right away?”

He waves a hand at you in dismissal. “I really don’t know. He’s doing something– I don’t know. He won’t talk about it.”

“I should pray to him that I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t come here and heal my ribs. I’m not spending that entire drive back to Lebanon with cracked ribs.”

Dean’s face lights up. “You’re coming back with us?”

You falter. “I– Sam said–”

“I want you to.” He says quickly, and then looks surprised at himself. He looks away, the muscles in his jaw working. “You could do with some downtime, right?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.” You smile at him. “I want to, too.”

He just looks at you for a minute, that damn smile on his face, and you’re honestly thinking he might kiss you. The guy _leans in_ before he seems to remember what he’s doing and he stops himself. You want to punch him, but you don’t push it. This tension between the two of you is going to come to a head sooner or later, you’re sure of it.

.

.

The next morning, you’re barely staying awake when you hear the fluttering of wings in the room, and your eyes snap open. “Thank God.” You say, your throat feeling like there’s gravel stuck in it.

“I’m sorry it took so long.” Castiel says, striding towards you. The guys are starting to wake up, but Cas doesn’t wait for them. His fingers meet your forehead and then your pain is gone. You groan gratefully.

“Thanks, Cas. You’re a lifesaver.”

“What the hell took so long?” Dean asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“I was busy.”

“Yeah, well she was in bad shape.”

“Dean.” You admonish. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You have insomnia and then you had to stay awake for an entire night because of your head–”

“It’s _fine_.” You say, reaching for his hand before you can think about what you’re doing. He falls silent when your fingers wrap around his hand lightly.

“I need to speak with you, both of you.” Castiel says to Sam and Dean. You look between them, sensing there’s something going on you don’t know about. “O- _kay_ ,” you say, exaggerating the word, “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

When you get out, the room is cleaned up except for your bag, and you find the guys outside waiting for you. Dean’s brought your car closer to the room and tosses your keys at you when you shut the door to the motel room behind you.

“Following us?” He asks, and you nod.

“If that’s still okay…” You say, hesitant.

“Don’t be dumb.” Sam says, smiling fondly. “We can catch up on _Jessica Jones_!”

You grin. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

Dean smiles at you again, and even Cas’s eyes are warm as he watches you. “I have to go.” He says, voice gruff as usual. “I’ll be in touch when I know more.”

He’s gone quickly, and you blink, still not quite used to that. “Let’s hit the road.” Dean says, and you slide into your driver’s seat, hitting the road behind the boys.

You only stop twice for gas and snacks, and Sam insists on checking your ribs even though you know Cas healed them completely. Even your stitches are healed. When you get to the Bunker finally, it’s like a breath of fresh air. The place is just so _homey_ , and you haven’t had a place like that in a long time.

Dean makes burgers for dinner, and the three of you catch up on hunting stories as you eat. You start to feel more relaxed than you have in a long time, and Dean looks amused when you yawn. “Sorry!” You say. “You’re not _that_ boring, I promise.”

“Ha-ha.” He deadpans.

“It’s good, right?” Sam asks. “You’re finally feeling tired enough to sleep?”

“Might get a whole five hours tonight!” You say, winking at him.

You have a beer with them and then Sam calls it, saying he wants to get a full night’s sleep. He heads off to his room, and you take your dishes to the sink, yawning again.

“Go on.” Dean says from behind you, voice gentle. “I can clean up.”

“What? No, I can–”

“You’re tired. _Go_.”

You sigh. “You’re sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to just show up here and not pull my weight–”

Dean makes an offended noise. “Shut up. When have we ever asked you to do anything around here?”

You hold your hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine! Don’t say I never offered!”

You head to the room you usually take when you’re here after getting washed up, and collapse into bed. You think you fall asleep almost instantly, and you can’t remember the last time that happened.

You get woken up in the middle of the night by the bed shifting, and you’re reaching for your gun before you can process what’s happening.

“Woah, woah. Just me.” Dean says, sitting on the edge. “I–” he rubs the back of his neck. “I was freezing in my room. Just checking you were warm enough.”

“I’m fine,” you croak, voice still rough with sleep.

“Can I…?” Dean asks, his face open, and you can’t deny him anything when he’s looking at you like that.

“Come on, then.” You scoot over, making room for him, and he sighs when he slides in.

“That’s so _nice_.” He says, practically _purrs_ , and you hate the way it does something to your insides as you automatically start thinking about him saying that for another reason.

He doesn’t hesitate this time. He wraps an arm around you, and you burrow your face into his shoulder. He’s warmer than you expected for having froze his ass off in his room. He sighs, and you do the same, content settling over you like a blanket.

His hand starts to wander. Not like– nothing _rude_. He rubs your shoulder gently, fingers playing with the ends of your hair. Your hand splays out across his waist, and you can feel the muscles tightening under your hand. He turns his head towards yours, and you can feel his breath on your forehead.

Still, neither of you say anything. The arm on your waist starts to move a little bit - stroking the bit of exposed skin where your tank top has ridden up, and you shiver a little. There’s no way he missed that, but you decide if he isn’t going to say anything, you aren’t either. Your hand crawls up his chest, landing over his heart, and you’re pleased to feel it beating a little harder than normal, matching yours.

The hand in your hair tightens a little bit when you shift, your leg sliding in between his. You’re feeling a little bold, but– you just keep remembering his reaction to waking up with you at the motel, and you know you’re not the only one feeling this connection. You’re certainly not the only one starved for a little affection, if his reactions are anything to judge it by.

Your nose is brushing against the hollow of his throat now, his hand on your waist sliding around to the small of your back, pressing lightly until you’re flush against his side. He makes a strangled noise in his throat when you press a kiss lightly to the warm skin of his neck, and you know you’ve got him when his hand slides lower, fingering the waistband of your sleep shorts as he pulls you even closer.

“Kid.” He says, and his voice sounds _wrecked_. You look up, and he’s _right there_ , his eyes dark and his mouth parted, watching you.

You don’t wait this time. You lift your chin and then your mouth is on his, meeting him in a kiss that deepens immediately, turning wet and dirty right away, causing both of you to groan into it.

Dean’s hands are hot on you, and he pulls you tighter against him so you’re practically laying on top of him. His other hand strokes through your hair, cupping the back of your head as his tongue strokes along yours, small noises escaping his mouth every so often.

When you break apart for air, he pulls you the rest of the way on top of him. “This okay?” He asks, and he sounds desperate for it. “You gotta tell me now, or else I don’t think I can–”

“This is good. It’s really good, Dean.” You reassure him, and his mouth finds your jaw.

You tilt your head to one side to give him better access as both his hands slide up the back of your tank top, fingers skimming your ribcage. He drags his blunt nails down your spine as he moves, and you arch against him, moaning his name into the relative quiet of the room.

“Tell me what you want.” He says, his voice dark. “Tell me you’ve wanted this as long as I have.”

“Which is it?” You tease, and his grip tightens on you before he flips you over onto your back.

His mouth finds yours again, the kiss open-mouthed and filthy, the kind you’ve always wanted from him in your most desperate moments.

“God,” he breathes, after. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Back at you,” you reply, breathless. You tug his shirt up and off of his shoulders, taking a minute to admire the muscles on his chest as he holds himself up right over you.

“Been wanting this for months.” He mutters against your neck, his mouth moving down to slide over your collarbones, his hands bunching up your tank top. “Thought about you in a hundred different ways.”

“Dean–” You say, wanting to beg him to stop and to keep going all at the same time. Your nerve endings are on fire.

He takes your top off and sucks in a breath when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra, and you shrug. “Wasn’t expecting anyone.” You say, and he growls.

Then his mouth is on you, and you lose all ability to speak. He’s relentless - sucking and licking at you in a way that makes you see stars. You think you’re pulling his hair a little too hard, but still he doesn’t let up.

He moves South, fingers playing with the hem of your shorts and he keeps talking. “You have no idea what it was like waking up next to you and having you so close…” He trails off, tugging your shorts off your hips. “Wanted to press myself to you right there until we both got off.”

“Jesus.” You groan.

“I wanna do this right but I don’t think I can wait.” He says, bringing his mouth back to yours. He kisses you hard, and you feel the desperation in him the way he holds himself tense over you.

“Pants, Dean.” You gasp as he sucks on the pulse point behind your ear.

You help him get them off, and then he’s flush against you, the only things separating you the thin material of your underwear and his boxers. You both groan and he grinds against you for a moment, relishing in the friction it brings to both of you.

“Let me have you.” He whispers, almost pleading with you. “It’ll be good, I promise–” he cuts himself off as you press your hips into his again, and he lets out a choked off groan. “ _Christ_. Kid.”

“In my bag. Condoms.” You say, incapable of full sentences.

He gets up and grabs them, and you hear the packet tearing as he gets ready for you. When he comes back, it doesn’t take long before he’s sliding into you, stretching you in a way that makes you see stars.

“ _Fuck_. You’re so– god _damn_.” He says, incoherently. You nod.

“I know. Move, Dean. Please move.”

He does, and you both curse as he fills you over and over. You’re so close and he is too after only a minute or so, you can tell by the way his rhythm falters. He keeps talking to you, telling you how good you feel around him and how wet you are, all things that you would blush over hearing in the daylight, but you always knew Dean loved to run his mouth.

“Come on,” he’s saying, mouthing at your chest. “Come on, I want to watch. I want to watch you come apart for me.”

“Please–” You say, moaning as he thrusts in a little harder, a little deeper. “ _Dean_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on, sweetheart. _Fuck_.”

It doesn’t take long. He thrusts a few more times, a slow grind upwards that has you keening, and then you’re both there, letting out almost identical groans as your orgasm overtakes you both.

He lays there for a minute as you both regain your bearings and then he slides off you, trying not to crush you in the process.

“I swear,” he says, “that was _not_ what I had planned when I came in here.”

You laugh. “Thank God your plans almost never work out the way they’re supposed to, then.”

“That mouth of yours. Why do I find that so hot?”

Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together. “You’re one to talk.”

He hums, grinning as his eyes slide shut. He tugs you closer. “You’ll be here in the morning?” He asks like he isn’t sure, and you hate that he’s so convinced everyone is going to leave. You want to make it your mission to prove to him that someone is going to stick around for him.

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

“Good.”


End file.
